Perhaps
by deefee
Summary: After Hogwarts, Hermione and Draco both work in the Ministry. This is the story of Draco's patient attempts at getting a date.


Author's Note: _Harry Potter_ belongs to the one and only JK Rowling, no matter how much I adore her characters! The plot is mine, all else is hers :)

Perhaps

"Miss Granger, where will you be taking this week's bouquet? I'd like to get the card filled out now since I'm taking an early lunch today" chirped Hermione's enthusiastic assistant Kassie. Engrossed in reading a thick ream of parchment she didn't respond at first. Finally she looked up with an warm smile. Kassie continued their weekly exchange, "You know the flowers are quite gorgeous, and the man that sends them isn't too bad looking either."

"He just won't give up will he?" Hermione replied, trying unsuccessfully to hide the amusement in her voice. She opened her office door wondering what this week's bouquet would look like. For the past six months, a stunning bouquet had been left on her desk every Friday morning. While Hermione loved flowers, she had originally decided on principal that she couldn't accept the bouquets, but when the gift-giver had flat out refused to take them back or to stop leaving them for her, she had fallen into the habit of taking the bouquet to some community place during her Friday lunch breaks. This routine had actually served her well, helping her get to know quite a few members of the magical community in various organizations. While initially frustrating her admirer, he had come to accept the ritual since it seemed to make Hermione happy, he had concluded that because that was his intent behind leaving the flowers anyway, this way they were both happy. He had since made it his Friday afternoon ritual to pop in after lunch to inquire where the week's bouquet had gone.

Hermione opened her office door, ready to evaluate the best organization for this new bouquet—the flowers were never the same, and Hermione always felt that the type of bouquet needed to fit with the place she took them. When her gaze fell on the bouquet however, she could think of no place to which she wanted to give the flowers. A full bouquet of snow white calla lilies with a single purple orchard in the middle lay perched on the top of her ornately engraved cherry desk, the pure white of the flowers standing in bright contrast to the dark swirls and tones of the wood they lay on. She let a small gasp leave her. It was by no means the rarest, most expensive, or most exotic bouquet she had received in the past six months, but it was immediately decided as her hands-down favorite. Kassie slid up beside her and repeated her early question about whom she should make the card out to, but Hermione, mind uncharacteristically blank, said not to worry about it and that she would do it herself once she had thought more on the matter. What Hermione was thinking, but unwilling to admit to her assistant, was that she felt no desire to give this bouquet away, and in fact, felt rather against the thought of parting with it at all.

Realizing that she still had work to be done, Hermione conjured a vase onto her desk and delicately placed the flowers into it. Sitting down, she let her attention once again drift deeply into the document she had been reading when she'd entered her office—the newest draft of house-elf rights legislation that she was working to get passed. At 11:30, Kassie stuck her head in and announced that she was off to her lunch date. Her long-time boyfriend, Oliver Wood, was a player on Puddlemere United's Quidditch team, so whenever he had a rare day off from training, he liked to take her out for a fancy meal. Kassie gushed on about how they were going to the new French restaurant in Diagon Alley. Hermione contained herself until Kassie had left but then broke into a huge grin. Oliver, an old friend from Hogwarts, had written her earlier that week to ask if he could have Kassie for the whole afternoon on Friday since he was planning to propose to her during their lunch date. Hermione hoped that Kassie would agree to marry him, they made a wonderful couple and seemed to absolutely adore each other.

Hoping to finish marking up the current section of the legislation she was reviewing, Hermione returned to her reading, happy thoughts of Kassie's potential engagement lightening her mood. When a knock on her door sounded, Hermione looked up in surprise only to notice that an hour and a half had passed and the clock now read 1:00. The section that she had been trying to finish with had ended up being a chunk of sloppy work and she had been pouring over it, feverishly crossing things out and jotting notes all in the margins. A striking white-blond head appeared in the gap of her doorway, followed by the rest of the tall man's body, dressed in a well-fitted charcoal grey suit that matched his intrigued mercury eyes.

"Hermione," he began slowly in a cautious voice tinted with both amusement and hope, "do my eyes deceive me, or is that my bouquet sitting on your desk in a vase?" He risked a quick grin at her.

She looked confused for a moment, but then her eyes darted from the flowers back up to the man. "Malfoy." She greeted him, not unkindly. "Er, well, yes, it is. But you see, I just haven't had time to think of a proper place to give them yet. No matter where I consider, it just doesn't seem right." The man nodded, familiar with her ritual of choosing a place that matched the type of flowers in the bouquet. In fact, he had made it part of his ritual to not only ask where the bouquet had gone, but to inquire about her logic in the choice of location. He found her logic on the matter fascinating. "Perhaps," she continued, blushing slightly, "perhaps they belong on my desk. I rather like this bouquet. It reminds me of my mother's garden growing up and of my cousin's wedding when I was nine and of the smell on a warm summer's night when I took that vacation to France a few years ago." By now the tint on her cheeks had brightened considerably as had the smile on the man's face.

The man repeated his standard line in their Friday conversations, "Please, call me Draco." Hermione smiled indulgently as usual, knowing that breaking the habit would be nearly impossible after eleven years of calling him nothing but his surname and a variety of far less pleasant monikers. She still wondered how he had managed to learn to call her by her first name. She had begun working in the Department of Regulation for Magical Beasts two years ago and Malfoy had joined the Department of International Cooperation seven months ago. After unsuccessful attempts to engage her in conversation, he had begun to leave the bouquets, but even in the month before the bouquets, Hermione distinctly recalled him only referring to her by her first name, or in more formal settings as Miss Granger. "So, Hermione, will you come to dinner with me?" was the next line she anticipated hearing from him. It was always the next line in their weekly exchange. She would politely decline, his shoulders would slump for a moment as she would feel a twinge of guilt, and then he would recompose himself, sink down in the chair across from her and they would spend the next half hour pleasantly discussing their weeks. Yet this time, Draco remained silent, staring at the bouquet sitting on her desk as if in awe of its presence.

Filling his chest with a deep breath, as if bracing himself against an oncoming wave, he softly said, "Perhaps the flowers belonging there mean that you belong at a table with me tonight, having dinner?" While the question was in essence the same as always, the particular phrasing and his tone caused Hermione to pause before responding. Somehow this felt different than normal, it felt more like a turning point, and she wondered if she said no whether next week's bouquet might not show up, and then she realized that while she would miss the flowers were they not to appear, she would miss Draco's visit even more. When she looked up at him, she saw a nervousness that was new on his face as he waited for her reply.

"Perhaps," she smiled gently, "perhaps you could pick me up at seven this evening?" Draco beamed and agreed quickly before excusing himself to return to work. He paused at the door, turned and said, "I'll see you tonight then Hermione" as if wanting one last confirmation that he would indeed get to finally have dinner with her. She nodded and said, "Yes, I'll see you tonight….Draco."


End file.
